


1961- The Defeat of Heinrich Kemmler

by gollymissmolly



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gollymissmolly/pseuds/gollymissmolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the defeat of Heinrich Kemmler by the White Council, circa 1961.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1961- The Defeat of Heinrich Kemmler

This was the third war.  The third time the White Council had set their forces against Heinrich Kemmler— and this time, they had refused to take any chances.  Not only were the Wardens out in droves, but every last wizard alive was called to fight the armies of dead, demons, shades and Fae under the necromancers command, including those whose presence was merely tolerated by the White Council.

They had needed an expert on Fae, and one who was still beholden to the White Council- more than that, they needed someone with extensive knowledge of Ways, to spirit a few select Wardens into Kemmler’s stronghold and end the warlock at his source.

It was a hard fought battle through the Nevernever, as Kemmler, certainly, had left no holes in his defense- and by the time they had arrived, their number was down to three: Warden Justin DuMorne, Wizard Margaret LeFay and the Blackstaff.

Margaret had taken the brunt of the attack, both physically and psychically, as she had held the Ways open— like holding open a bear trap with nothing but the strength of her will.  The gash on her side lay her ribs bare, and by the time they made their way to Kemmler’s lab, she was leaning heavily on her staff, each breath pained.

She couldn’t say with any exactitude what had ended the confrontation.  There was a flash, and she stirred from beneath the rubble, her staff cast out of her hands, DuMorne kneeling beside her and tearing a strip from his gray cloak to bind her left arm in a makeshift sling.  Now that she noticed, it  _hurt,_  and didn’t want to respond to her commands. 

"What happened?" She asked, submitting to the field dressing and frowning at the remains of the lab.

"The Blackstaff." DuMorne answered shortly, but clasped her opposite elbow to help her back to her feet.  Margaret grunted in pain, but rose all the same (pain was a motivator, after all) and nodded her thanks.

"Where is he?"

"Down there." The Warden inclined his head towards the small trap door that led down into the necromancer’s stone-walled laboratory.  "Don’t move.  We don’t know what else might be down there.  I’ll be back in a moment."

She wasn’t pleased with the arrangement, but with her left arm broken and bound, she would be more of hindrance than a help and nodded as Justin left. 

Margaret leaned heavily back against one of the stone walls before her head cleared enough that she trusted herself to lean down to pick up her staff— and followed a pair of boots and the bottom of a blackened staff up to overalls and her father’s pained face.  Apparently it had not been as much of a one-sided victory as DuMorne would have led her to believe.

"Here." She said, wedging her good shoulder under his arm and helping the old man to sit, though he seemed reluctant to, and kept his eyes on the entrance into the lab.  "DuMorne thought you were still down there." She supplied, following his line of sight.

"Be careful with that one, Maggie." He grunted, releasing her shoulder, "A snake in the grass is still a snake, no matter how long it stays in its den." 

Her expression soured and she stepped away to lean back against the stone wall, shoulders stiffening and her chin lifted haughtily, “Wizard McCoy, while I appreciate your concern, I am  _not_  your apprentice any longer, and you have no say over whom I choose to associate with.”

McCoy heaved a sigh but held up a hand in defeat.  He was too tired to fight, and for a moment, Margaret’s expression softened.  She thought about reaching out to him, touching his shoulder and assuring him that she would be careful, that she knew what she was doing.   But that was not how their relationship worked.

"Margaret." DuMorne called, coming up from the lab, withdrawing his hand from the satchel he wore across his shoulders and pulled his cloak loosely across it.  A strange motion… what had he needed from his sack if there was no danger below…? 

"He’s here." She said, watching the Warden for a moment before looking back to the Blackstaff, who leaned on said staff and pushed himself to his feet, old knees creaking. 

DuMorne nodded to the other man and added, “We should go rejoin the rest of the Council.” 

"Of course." Margaret inclined her head lightly to the Warden and her father, "I would imagine our exit will be far less eventful than the entrance, but I would suggest you gentlemen to be on your guard all the same." She said, whispering a magic word as she touched her staff to the ground and drew a shimmering circle in the air, opening a Way back into the Nevernever.  She let McCoy take point, and followed after DuMorne, though she kept a careful eye on the Warden’s back.

Her father didn’t warn her against her company lightly and while she was under no obligation to obey, the old man wasn’t prone to gossip idly.  If he said there was something to be cautious of in DuMorne, he was undoubtedly  _right_.

The question was  _what_ , exactly, did she have to fear from Justin DuMorne?


End file.
